Game Over
by ERiN OPPEL
Summary: How can one come to terms with his death when he doesn't believe he deserved it?


**Update: I redid the cover in Photoshop, so it's not as crappy.**

**My brother's gonna make fun of me if he sees this…especially since I said I wasn't gonna like Turbo. But after reading and seeing good fanfics and fanart of him, he kinda grew on me. Now I can't help but feel sorry for him. He's still a jerk, don't get me wrong, but he's much more sympathetic. So here's Turbo's final thoughts as he's dying, inspired by the saddest Turbo pic on DeviantArt (not the book cover; that's just sad in the way I attempted fanart) and the most depressing Owl City song ever.**

**This is my first time doing a one-shot based mainly on character development, so I'm sorry if it's not very good. Please give me any constructive feedback you may have.**

**Disclaimer: Disney owns Turbo and everything. I own nothing. That makes me sadder.**

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Game Over

_By ERiN OPPEL_

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His whole body was on fire.

A pair of acid-yellow eyes shot open just as a horrified scream escaped his throat. Wildly, he flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to put out the flames, though he stopped in confusion when he could see none. In fact, it suddenly occurred to him that he no longer felt any pain.

He spun around madly, but he was surrounded by darkness. At first he thought he was in his royal chamber, just after waking up from a terrifying nightmare. But he was not lying in the comfortable sponge cake bed he'd gotten used to sleeping in all these years. In fact, he was upright, though he seemed to be floating in midair rather than standing on solid ground. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings.

That nightmare…had it been real?

He cringed at the images that flashed in his mind: being devoured by a candy-coated monstrosity, an agonizing transformation, and finally, being forced to burn himself alive in a column of bright, scalding liquid. He gripped his face to try to block out the visions and his fingers came to brush against a smooth, hard dome upon his head.

His racing helmet. He was just Turbo again.

So it could not have been a dream. The excruciating pain had been real, he remembered it vividly: the boiling cola searing his code like it was real flesh. With a start, he examined his hands, illuminated only by the natural glow of his eyes. To his relief, they looked perfectly fine. No scars, even. Slowly, his memory started to return to him. When it caught up with his logic, he knew exactly what happened to him, and his eyes widened in alarm.

He was dead.

Not physically, but technically dead within the game. He gulped nervously, wondering if he was going to revive and not expecting what happened next.

A neon-blue glow lit up from above and he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace; the sudden brightness compared to the pitch-black almost blinded him. When his eyes adjusted, he squinted up to see large, glowing letters beaming down at him. He froze wide-eyed when he read the words:

GAME OVER

His heart was pounding, head shaking slowly as his lips parted in a barely audible whisper. "No…" A red dot of light glided up past his face, briefly distracting his gaze. It vanished into the blackness, followed by others.

Pixels. _His_ pixels.

With a tense gasp, he stared down at his crimson boots. They were gradually starting to disperse into pixels.

"No! _No no NO!_" he cried in sheer terror, his voice still hoarse from screaming. He started to hyperventilate. Frantically, he tried grabbing at the pixels as they flew away from him, but they all passed through his hands. A wave of dread crashed over him when he knew why.

The game was deleting him.

Of course he was aware of the fact that characters dying outside their native game meant permanent destruction, but he had been able to cheat death before. He even made it so King Candy could regenerate after crashing. Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate having his code rewritten by that insect abomination.

Panicking, he yelled to no one, "No, wait! Give me another chance!" A short glitch rippled through him. "I'm not…ready…" he trailed off, realizing how pointless his plea was. He felt a stinging sensation in his eyes and was worried his face was already dissolving. But when he touched his cheeks, he realized he was crying.

He couldn't remember the last time he cried. Perhaps he never had. Why now, all of a sudden?

"I'm scared…" he said to himself softly. He had felt fear before, but this time was different. When _Road Blasters_ came to the arcade, he was afraid of being replaced. Now, he was afraid to die.

There was no afterlife for video game characters, and he was at least glad for that; after all he had done, he was certain he wouldn't be going to Heaven. But even the thought of simply not existing—no thinking, no feeling, nor dreaming—terrified him. He was never going to come back. No more chances.

It wasn't fair. Taking over the arcade was the bug's virus programming—all he wanted was to be loved again. Just seeing the children grin at him as he stood on the 1st place platform, trophy in hand, meant more to him than he thought possible. He had been their hero.

But he was envious. He wanted to be the _best_ racer. Anything less would have been an insult to his character. He didn't care about whose lives he ruined, as long as he got the attention he so rightfully deserved. And he got what he wanted. He went down in video game history as the notorious racer who got two arcade games unplugged out of insane jealousy. His name became legend, his story a fable used to warn any characters who may be harbouring malicious game-jumping intentions. "Going Turbo" was amusing to him at first, even flattering.

He really should've known better.

Tears continued to roll down his face but he didn't care. No one was there to see the pathetic state he was in. He had been alone his whole life. The _Turbo Time_ twins had shied away from him, and maybe that was his own fault. He never complimented their driving, or apologized for crashing their cars on the track. He never even learned their names. Now he really wished he had been nicer to them. They must have gone through the same frightening deletion process when their game was unplugged, but at least they had been together. He, however, was going to die alone.

It would have been so easy to blame the glitch and her repulsive friend for doing this to him. And yet…he couldn't. Something from the deepest part of his mind told him they were just doing the same thing he was doing: trying to survive. The irony was that everything he did to stay alive ended up killing him. If he hadn't game-jumped and crashed _Road Blasters_ in the first place, none of this would've happened. _He_ got himself killed. He felt a terrible ache in his stomach and knew it had nothing to do with half his body already being gone.

It was guilt. If only he had done things differently, made better decisions, maybe he wouldn't be dying in the hidden bowels of _Sugar Rush_. It wasn't supposed to end like this…

Burying his face in his hands, he murmured bitterly, "What have I done?" Reflecting on his actions made him realize how greedy and evil he had become. He actually felt sorry, and not just because now his arms were starting to break into pixels; he wished he could undo everything and start over.

But it was too late to fix the past.

He forced himself to look away from his fading limbs, but the only thing in sight was the Game Over sign—a solemn reminder that he had to pay for his deeds. If this was justice, he supposed he deserved it.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. Clenching his fists and staring in defeat at the luminous words, he stated more boldly, "Ok? I'm sorry. There, I admit it." His eyes drooped and he added quietly, "I'm a monster…and I'm honestly sorry."

After wiping away his tears, he felt a strange calm come over him. Perhaps it was the effects of the decoding process, but he wasn't as afraid anymore. This was the end for him, and yet he accepted that. He didn't smile, but the mournful look in his eyes was replaced by understanding.

"Turbo-tastic…" he whispered hazily, his voice slightly distorting as his head was being dissolved. The haunting white noise of his departing code faded from his ears. His vision was going; everything was becoming fuzzy and red. He could no longer read the two words up above, and soon he couldn't see anything. All sensation was lost as he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

The last of his scarlet pixels disappeared, leaving the lonely abyss empty and dark once again.


End file.
